


Sunday Mornings

by space_oddity_75



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Coma, F/M, Gen, Multiple Timelines, Sadness, mad-in-a-coma-or-back-in-time?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_oddity_75/pseuds/space_oddity_75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s curse and a secret he keeps.<br/>[Spoilers up to 2x08. Things went differently in that tunnel and Sam never returned to 1973.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Mornings

Ruth Tyler was worried about her son. Ever since Sam had awoken from his coma a few months before, she’d noticed how much he’d changed. His physical injuries had now healed completely, but it was the psychological side of his trauma that concerned her the most. 

He was different, in a way she couldn’t put her finger on, and it hurt her very much to see him like that. Whenever she looked at him, she could spot a shadow of sorrow in his eyes, but the reason for it wasn’t easy to understand.  
With her he’d become more evasive than ever: while at work he was still very similar to his irreprehensible old self, but at home he often behaved distantly, like he was only physically there, but actually living in a sort of parallel world only he knew about. And sometimes, when he was in a sad mood, his enigmatic answers just gave her the creeps.

On the day Sam had been released from hospital, about six months after the accident, she’d suggested she could live with him for a while, to help him out until he felt a bit better, and he’d immediately agreed, hugging her fiercely as if she were the only anchor to keep him safe in a world where he’d lost all his bearings.

His psychiatrist had explained that feeling confused and in strong need of affection was part of many ex-coma patients’ conditions, and apparently Sam was no exception. Helping him return to his regular life in a familiar environment was good for his recovery, but the doctor had suggested that his mother keep a close eye on him, in order to monitor any possible unconventional behaviour on his side. He’d also recommended that she should act tactfully around Sam and let him have his way, as long as he didn’t cause any harm to himself or others. After all, the patient had not been pronounced mentally ill, but only deeply shaken by the trauma he’d suffered and in need of a fair amount of help to regain his physical and mental strength. 

Of course, Ruth had been willing to do anything to help improve her son’s conditions; after all those months of crying, hoping and praying at his bedside, her beautiful boy had finally come back to her, safe and alive, and that was all that mattered. Nevertherless, his current behaviour concerned her immensely. She was sure there must be something terrible going on within him now, something he wouldn’t tell her, which was eating him inside. She swore to herself that one day she’d find out, one way or the other.

*****

Every Sunday morning Sam tried to slip out of his room as early as possible without his mother noticing, but she had a good hearing and always caught him before he could make it through the door.

‘Sam?’ she called from the kitchen, where she was busy fixing herself a nice cup of tea, ‘Going out already?’

‘Yep,’ he muttered, hastily putting on his jacket and reaching for the doorknob in order to avoid further questioning.

She joined him on the doorstep and looked him over with a smile, while drinking her steamy brew. ‘Good for you, sweetheart. A bit of fresh air won’t do you any harm, you always look so pale... But be careful and take it easy, alright? You know what the doctor said.’

She caressed his cheek, but he moved away impatiently, so she decided to change tactics. ‘Meeting someone special?’ she asked casually, her face half hidden by the rim of the mug.

Sam bit his lip and seemed to ponder what to say, before giving her an evasive answer, ‘N-no, just... seeing a couple of friends.’ 

Honestly, Ruth had no idea which sort of friends her son was so eager to visit that early on Sundays. If she didn’t know him so well, she’d have sworn he’d become religious all of a sudden and was in a hurry because he didn’t want to skip the Mass. But the idea seemed utterly ridiculous even to her, and she just dismissed it without a second thought.

‘Want me to take you there, sweetheart? You’re still recovering your strength and shouldn’t strain yourself too much by driving the jeep, you know.’ 

‘No, thanks mum. I can manage.’

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, shoved the car keys into his pocket and headed out without looking back.

Ruth sighed at her son’s stubborness and headed back into the kitchen, resuming her daily chores. There was so much to do in that house, and even with plenty of time in her hands she always preferred to start cooking the Sunday meal quite early, so that when Sam came back she could spoil him with one of his favourite dishes, hoping to please him a little bit and perhaps even be rewarded with one of his sweet, albeit so rare, smiles.

*****

The little cemetery church in the countryside was crammed as usual. The senior priest opened its heavy wooden doors just to hold the Sunday morning Mass, and many people gathered there from various parts of town to listen to his soothing words on the beauty of eternal life and God’s love and compassion.

Annie Cartwright loved the strength of those ancient walls, their aura of protection having the power to make her feel at peace with herself in spite of whatever terrible event might be happening in the world outside. She’d been coming here every week for years, sitting preferably on the far left side of the last bench, right next to the pillar, and carrying two bunches of fresh flowers that she would lay onto the graves after the function had ended. 

Little did she know that for the past few weeks she hadn’t been the only visitor to the 33-year-old stones upon which her flowers lay.

*****

As soon as he’d been declared fit for duty and re-admitted into his CID, Sam had given in to his need to know the truth about his strange adventure in time and space, so he’d carried out some extended computer research within the police archives and discovered that his 1973 friends had really existed, much to his amazement. 

Annie was the one he’d found out the most about: she’d never got married, but had earned herself quite a career in ‘C’ Division, Hyde. Now she was in her early sixties, having retired a few years earlier with a spotless curriculum as a criminal profiler. Somehow, that discovery had made him smile.

And there she was now, in flesh and blood, standing only a few feet away from him. Not the result of some sick coma dream or hallucination, but a real person living a real life. Her mass of brown hair was now streaked with white and her figure was not as lean as it had been thirty years earlier, but to his eyes, she couldn’t be more beautiful. 

He’d soon discovered where she lived and started following her around from a distance, as a sort of silent shadow, a living ghost who couldn’t muster enough strength to go up to her and face the demons of his past.   
Ever since he’d found out where she was headed so early on Sunday mornings, he’d spent hours in that little cemetery, hiding behind the trees or faking a visit to some distant grave, just to be able to watch her for a while and let all his memories flow back. 

He never dared move any closer than that, though. Knowing that she was alive and well was enough for him already, and somehow he felt he didn’t have the right to turn her world upside down once again by revealing that he hadn’t actually died or aged since that fateful day in 1973. This was his curse and he couldn’t do anything about it, but at least he wanted to spare her the pain of finding out.

As crazy as it sounded, the moment DI Sam Tyler had been killed in the heat of crazy gunfire during a train robbery in 1973, DCI Sam Tyler had returned to life in the ICU of a Manchester hospital in present day. 

*****

The first time he’d set foot in that little cemetery, making sure Annie was no longer in sight, Sam had gingerly approached the tombs she’d just visited, curious to read whose names were etched on them. 

In that precise moment his heart had skipped a beat, breath catching in his throat. Luckily there was no-one else around, so he hadn’t been caught breaking down crying like a child and crouching to support himself on one of the stones, his mind in utter shock and his body suddenly devoid of any strength. 

After months of numbness and confusion, he’d finally been hit full-frontal with all the pain and sorrow resulting from the consequences of his cowardly behaviour in 1973. 

He hadn’t been strong enough to save himself and the others from that tragedy, had broken the promise he’d made to Annie on the train carriage, deserted his colleagues and friends by running off into that tunnel in search of non-existent backup. He’d been lured by the chance to go back to his world, only to change his mind at the last minute and turn around when the robbers were already winning their battle, having taken down three officers out of four. He’d been punished for his stubborness, for failing to arrest the robbers, who’d legged it with the money, and for taking a bullet in the chest and bleeding to death on the gravel, with Annie unsuccessfully trying to keeping him awake and press on the wound with her bare hands, waiting for an ambulance that everyone knew would never arrive. 

So much had been lost on that godforsaken day many years before, and now he had to live with the remorse of having misjudged the danger of that damn situation, putting so many lives at risk and losing what he had dearest in that world, only to wake up empty and heartbroken in another world he’d soon discovered not to like anymore.

Annie represented all that was left of his past life, and although he could never reveal himself to her, he clinged to her image as to the one boat that could keep him afloat in that crazy new world that once belonged to him and in which he now seemed to be drowning. 

So, every Sunday he came here and followed her with his gaze while she inhaled the scent of the blossoms and crouched down between those two identical tombs, gently wiping dirt off both before throwing away the rotten flowers and filling the vases with fresh ones. 

The gravestone on the left read: 

Here lies  
Detective Chief Inspector   
EUGENE HUNT  
b. 1929 - d. 1973  
Beloved husband   
and respected lawman.  
R.I.P.

 

The one on the right read:

Here lies  
Detective Inspector  
SAMUEL TYLER  
b. 1936 – d. 1973  
Sacrificed his young life   
in the line of duty.  
R.I.P.

 

*****

They’d died together, Gene and him. They’d performed their duty as best as they could, each one believing in his own policing methods, but always respecting his partner’s ideas. 

They made a great team, Gene and him. But they were killed mercilessly, because things don’t always turn out as you expected and because in real life the good can’t always win.

They shared the same fate, Gene and him. But only one of them was given a second chance. 

*****

And now DCI Sam Tyler had returned to his old life, in his own timeline. But he couldn’t stop grieving for what had happened in 1973, because deep down inside he knew it was all his fault. He’d rather be dead now, he’d rather never have woken up, and it hurt like hell to be forced to keep on living with all those memories in his head and nobody to share them with. 

He was an unwilling survivor who was just one step away from self-destruction, the edge of his existence getting nearer and nearer. 

And this was the secret Ruth Tyler would never know.


End file.
